


Converto

by o0katiekins0o



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Molly, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Gen, Omega Sherlock, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3297173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0katiekins0o/pseuds/o0katiekins0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What life has in store for newly bonded Omega Sherlock and Alpha Molly. Sequel to "Inverto" by Nocturnias.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Converto

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nocturnias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnias/gifts), [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Inverto](https://archiveofourown.org/works/823461) by [nocturnias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnias/pseuds/nocturnias). 



> Of course I would like to give special thanks to Nocturnias for her blessing to go ahead with this idea that had been niggling away at my brain for months. She kept in touch with me offering suggestions and encouragements. You're amazing! Thank you for letting me expand upon your exquisite work. I am not worthy. 
> 
> Thanks are also owed to the fabulous MizJoely for her amazing beta work (and it was real work cleaning up the formatting issues since I wrote the whole thing on my phone!) Thank you, thank you!

He scented the change almost immediately. Their combined scents: his warm and spicy, hers floral and thick like nectar, blending into a delicious aroma that meant safety, comfort and home. Despite the abrupt turn their lives had taken since their bond, it had become a comfortable constant for Sherlock. Now he sat upright, heart galloping with alarm over the fact that it had noticeably altered, seemingly overnight. Beneath the musky layers and fragrant notes lay something... other. Something sweet and milky hiding just underneath the typical heady pheromones of his bond mate and alpha who lay sleeping beside him, blissfully unaware.

It took him no time to deduce what that change signaled. Not once he'd sorted through his own denial and the series of missteps they had made since their chemistry inverted.

The first mistake was in Sherlock's attempt to find a suitable heat suppressant without the help of an omega-specific physician. He had no trouble accessing all varieties of heat suppressants designed for male omegas but the chemistry varied, allowing for a much wider margin for error. It took four tries to find a formula that did not either make him feel violently ill or extremely lethargic, neither of which was particularly good for brain work. In-between each trial of failed suppressant he underwent micro-heats, only lasting a day or a day and a half at the longest.

Willing though he was to endure on his own, Molly could sense his distress filtering through their bond. It wouldn't be long before she begged off from work, feigning some illness or personal emergency to come thundering up the steps of Baker street.

The aroma of her on the air alone made him desperate enough to rip the door off its hinges to get to her. Even if he'd possessed the willpower to withstand the rich, sweet fragrance of her and its promise of release, his new Omega nature had taken a firm hold of him. In this state he was completely unable to ignore an order from his Molly, his alpha. Particularly when her voice dropped low and thick with want as she gently demanded, "Open the door, Sherlock. I just want to take care of you."

That was all it took for him to whimper and reach for the latch that fastened the door closed. He couldn't open it, too overwhelmed by the fever of his heat, unable to find the strength to break away, pressing against the cool of the door and the scent of his alpha that managed to waft through it.

When she swung the door open he would all but fall on her in a hungry embrace that she matched and exceeded in ferocity. She would have to guide him back into the flat as he was so mindless with want he was only capable of grasping her by the waist, lapping softly at the flesh below her ears as he ground his hardness against her. 

She took hold of him by the curls at his nape with only just enough force to steer his greater weight toward his bedroom, pushing him gently down over the duvet and hurriedly working his clothes off his body. He was no help as he was unable to keep his hands off of her long enough to allow her to undress him until her patience snapped and she nipped him roughly beneath his jaw with a growl. 

"Focus, Sherlock!" she snapped. He would straighten and comply, then begin to undress her as well with heavy need-laden eyes taking in the creamy flesh he exposed.

The first time would always be rough and hungry that left him spent and sated, however temporarily. In the lulls between the rising heat she would feed him ice chips and bits of fruit while he curled against her, his head in her lap, processing and categorizing the details of their encounter. The sex was still very new for them both, but even more so for Sherlock who lacked a frame of reference for any sort of sexual encounter prior to that first fateful heat.

Molly bemoaned the fact that his experiences were limited to these heat addled fogs that overtook him but never pressed him for more than what he was willing to give in the time between.

Their friends were completely baffled by their relationship, which was highly unusual for a bonded pair. John had even taken it upon himself to ask what exactly Sherlock was playing at, behaving as if his bond mate was merely someone he was casually seeing, not as if even that was something Sherlock had ever legitimately done with anyone either.

"Doesn't it hurt? Being apart from him like this?" Mary once asked Molly over coffee at her flat while her daughter chattered happily in her arms. Molly lowered her eyes, examining her tightly- clasped hands. Bondmates felt a pull to be near each other. Too long apart caused an aching need that only grew more overwhelming as time passed.

"Yes." Molly answered. Her voice, ragged with unspoken emotion, hung in the air like smoke. "But I'm his bondmate. We'll have each other for life. I can give him this for now. If he needs this distance then I will give it to him."

"Oh Molly. I'm sorry. It's not my place, I shouldn't have brought it up." Mary brushed her fingers through her daughter's bright golden hair absentmindedly. She looked away, giving Molly a moment to straighten her expression into one of composure.

They'd been attempting to keep secret from their friends that their quintessential chemical natures had reversed. It was shock enough that they'd bonded in the first place. There had been no prior documented cases of Alphas and Omegas inverting and neither were keen on making the history books as the first.

The only person apart from the two of them that knew was Mycroft. Once their first heat died down he'd sent for them both. An escort brought them to a private room at the Diogenese where they were seated and offered tea while Mycroft explained his subterfuge. He offered his support in whatever way was necessary to cope with their new alignments but Sherlock summarily refused.

"I think you've done enough, Mycroft." Sherlock spat, dragging Molly up by the arm and hauling her out of the club. He purposefully shouted loudly through the silence-only areas in sophomoric defiance.

The Alpha in Molly raged against her bond mate's aggressive treatment of her but sensing his anger through their bond she simply opted to follow while he shouted out his fury. He sat in the back of the cab, outwardly calm but Molly felt how overwhelmed he was. Was this how he always reacted? Always swelling with unchecked emotion and never letting it show.

"He wants to help us," Molly whispered. "Sooner or later we'll need someone else who knows. Someone who won't ask a lot of questions..."

"This is our lives Molly! Do you understand? He's toying with our lives like it's some bloody political power play and now we're..." He didn't finish the thought. He didn't have to. Molly knew.

_And now we're stuck with each other._

Molly said nothing throughout the remainder of the drive. Sherlock ignored her in favor of his phone and when the cab arrived at her flat, he didn't move to get out or acknowledge her in any way. She simply slid out of her seat and walked alone into her flat. Watching the cab pull away with Sherlock still inside from her window she fought back the urge to run after him.

She didn't see him for several days afterward, but occasionally she would wake up in the night with her heart pounding and an overwhelming restlessness. She would rise and pace the floor, itching with the need to find him, to protect him.

When he finally returned to her, bedraggled and needing a bone set in one of his fingers, she trembled with pent up anger. The desire to scream at him until her lungs burned and boot him from her flat warred with her instinct to wrap him up, hide him away, and guard him from danger. In the end the latter won out.

She took care of him, fed and fussed over him. He let her bathe him, lying in the water with his knees bent toward his chest as she dragged a flannel over his body and rinsed the dirt and detritus from his hair. Once cleaned, he locked himself in her guest room without a word.

She pulled the duvet off of her bed and lay on the floor outside his door, weeping quietly until she succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep.

She awoke in her own bed. Her eyes were filmy with the condensation of unshed tears and her throat burned with the previous night's strain of silencing her sobbing. She rose up from her position of repose to find Sherlock sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her.

His face was sunken, eyes shadowed. His skin was ghostly and sallow, lips drawn and cracked. He lowered his eyes to conceal a flash of emotion but was unable to keep it from seeping into their bond.

She felt it: cocktail of regret and bone-deep loneliness.

"Molly I-" his voice was a dry whisper. He was unable to complete his thought because Molly had risen up on her hands and knees, crawling across her crumpled bed clothes toward him. Throwing her arms around him she pulled him to her chest, pressing desperate kisses along his forehead. "Don't." She spoke into his temple. "Don't do that to me again." He shook in her arms. Unable to speak further, he merely nodded.

A conversation was clearly in order. It was perfectly all right that Sherlock was angry at Mycroft for meddling. It was even understandable that he harbored some resentment at finding himself bonded when that had never been part of his plan. Even if it was to someone he cared for and trusted as deeply as Molly. But it was unfair of him to treat Molly the way he had. It was not her fault. In his own self pity he'd allowed himself to forget that they were in this together. Despite whatever affection she may have had for him in the past it didn't follow that she'd signed on for this misery. She was just as much a victim of circumstance as he.

After many long moments of allowing Molly to cradle and cry out her frustrations over him they both left her bedroom hand in hand. She guided him into the kitchen where she made tea and toast for them both.

There was a long stand-off as they alternated between nibbling, sipping and staring. Neither seemed keen to speak, still recovering from the fallout of their first real row as a bonded pair.

Finally Sherlock cleared his throat. "I realize I may have...overreacted. A bit."

Molly nodded, vacantly sipping at her tea. 

"I know this...I know I'm not ideal." His head dropped into his hands. He sighed. "I'm so sorry, Molly." 

"It's alright, Sherlock, I understand." she whispered. He looked up at her and smiled weakly, "Yes I suppose you do." He sat up straight, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're right. This isn't ideal, I always hoped that if I ever bonded it would be with someone who felt...who wanted me."

Sherlock's face twitched and he looked pained at her words. "I didn't say this wasn't ideal. I said I'm not ideal. You are as close to ideal a person can be. I'm what's wrong in this pair. I do..." Sherlock started before clearing his throat. "I do want you, Molly."

Her heart leapt at his confession. "You do?"

He nodded. "I've given it some thought." Molly smiled inwardly at his wording. 'Some thought' was doubtlessly a gross understatement.

"Before Mycroft interfered I hadn't been any happier. I was just as miserable then as I am now trying to keep my distance from you when you were my...when you were Omega. The only difference now is that I am making you miserable too. That is...unacceptable. So I've come to a decision."

Molly braced herself, awaiting Sherlock's pronouncement.

"I want to try to make this work for us both, Molly. I don't see another option."

She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "Sorry, that wasn't good... What I mean is: I want you, I want us. I will try." He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. She closed her eyes and nodded.

They weren't miraculously effusive or affectionate from that point forward but they had their moments.

If asked, Sherlock would scoff derisively at inquiries or assumptions that they were in love but they were...loving, in their way.

Since their bond happened rather suddenly they decided to take it slowly for the rest of their relationship. They continued to live in their separate flats and everything remained much as it was before, with only the addition of dates and the rare chaste displays of affection.

In the end Sherlock blamed curiosity as his reason for initiating their first sexual encounter outside of heat. After a particularly enjoyable date to the observatory where he proudly displayed, to the bemusement of his bondmate, his recently acquired knowledge of astrophysics, they returned to her flat where she had made beef Wellington and they sipped Orangina.

"This was my favorite when I was a child", he stated with a smile.

"I know," Molly confessed with a blush. "I phoned your mum." She chewed her lip and, with a bashful expression, looked up at him over her black horn-rimmed glasses. She'd taking to wearing more often since he'd admitted to fancying how they looked on her.

Despite the fact that she was now alpha and he was life-bonded to her she was still able to be shy. These little familiar snatches of their former life, paired with the new and, sometimes frightening, turn of their present life made him feel as though something in his chest was being squeezed. He found it harder to breathe and his pulse raced in his throat.

He dropped his silverware with a loud clank on his plate, abandoning his meal so he could reach for her and...and what? He wasn't sure but instinct and years of pent up subconscious desires took the reins and his hands found their way into her thick, soft chestnut tresses as he brought her face toward his for a searing kiss.

There was something beautiful about sex with Molly in the clarity outside of the heat. It was much more exploratory and affectionate rather than a dazed fight toward release. He had more control and was able to take his time to learn her body. He found things about her form he enjoyed beyond what it could do to wrench pleasure out of him, though that was quite nice as well.

What sex with Molly between heats lacked in wildness it made up for in affection. Afterward he didn't feel halfway starved and dehydrated. He was content to lay with her until morning and share breakfast, although he ended up just having coffee as a text from Lestrade came through and he was needed for a murder investigation.

After he'd dressed she walked him to her door and they shared a languid parting kiss that left her flushed all over and grinning warmly. His chest seized again and he suddenly felt a confusing emotion. It occurred to him that he'd be happy to stay with her and ignore Lestrade and his murder case altogether. Naturally, it was completely out of the question but the impulse struck him as odd.

Since then hardly a night passed where they didn't find themselves sharing one or the other's bed. The whole arrangement was becoming incredibly inconvenient and expensive, not that cost was much of a consideration for Sherlock. Molly, being of a more practical nature, liked to point out the waste grudgingly.

The second great misstep was on Molly's end. She continued to see her usual omega GP. Their mingled scents meant it was possible for her to continue passing as omega, the change being written off as a product of their bond.

However, birth control for omega females was designed to create a hostile environment for hypervirile alpha sperm, and did nothing to combat the hyperfecundity of female alpha ovum. An oversight Sherlock was regretting at this very moment.

Alpha females had higher than average rates of multiples, they lived in separate flats, children had never been part of the equation.

Rising from her side he dressed hastily, careful not to wake her.


End file.
